The Young Step-Mother eBook

‘What is truth need not always be fully uttered,’
said Albinia. ’I hope you may find it
untrue.’

But Sophy’s words would recur, and weigh on
her painfully.

CHAPTER XI.

The summer had just begun, when notice was given that
a Confirmation would take place in the autumn; and
Lucy’s name was one of the first sent in to
Mr. Dusautoy. His plan was to collect his candidates
in weekly classes of a few at a time, and likewise
to see as much as he could of them in private.

‘Oh! mamma!’ exclaimed Lucy, returning
from her first class, ’Mr. Dusautoy has given
us each a paper, where we are to set down our christening
days, and our godfathers and godmothers. And
only think, I had not the least notion when I was
christened. I could tell nothing but that Mr.
Wenlock was my godfather! It made me feel quite
foolish not to know my godmothers.’

‘We were in no situation to have things done
in order,’ said Mr. Kendal, gravely. ’If
I recollect rightly, one of your godmothers was Captain
Lee’s pretty young wife, who died a few weeks
after.’

‘And the other?’ said Lucy.

‘Your mother, I believe,’ he said.

Lucy employed herself in filling up her paper, and
exclaimed, ’Now I do not know the date!
Can you tell me that, papa?’

‘It was the Christmas-day next after your birth,’
he said. ’I remember that, for we took
you to spend Christmas at the nearest station of troops,
and the chaplain christened you.’

Lucy wrote down the particulars, and exclaimed, ’What
an old baby I must have been! Six months old!
And I wonder when Sophy was christened. I never
knew who any of her godfathers and godmothers were.
Did you, Sophy?’

‘No—­’ she was looking up at
her father.

A sudden flush of colour came over his face, and he
left the room in haste.

‘Why, Sophy!’ exclaimed Lucy, ’one
would think you had not been christened at all!’

Even the light Lucy was alarmed at the sound of her
own words. The same idea had thrilled across
Albinia; but on turning her eyes on Sophy, she saw
a countenance flushed, anxious, but full rather of
trembling hope than of dismay.

In a few seconds Mr. Kendal came back with a thick
red pocket-book in his hand, and produced the certificate
of the private baptism of Sophia, daughter of Edmund
and Lucy Kendal, at Talloon, March 17th, 1838.

Sophy’s face had more disappointment in it than
satisfaction.

‘I can explain the circumstances to you now,’
said her father. ’At Talloon we were almost
out of reach of any chaplains, and, as you know, were
almost the only English. We always intended to
take you to the nearest station, as had been done
with Lucy, but your dear mother was never well enough
to bear the journey; and when our next little one
was born, it was so plain that he could not live, that
I sent in haste to beg that the chaplain would come
to us. It was then that you were both baptized,
and before the week was over, he buried little Henry.
It was the first of our troubles. We never again
had health or spirits for any festive occasion while
we continued in India, and thus the ceremony was never
completed. In fact, I take shame to myself for
having entirely forgotten that you had never been
received into the congregation.’